


A Letter to a Dear Friend

by Subject_0mega



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7491051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subject_0mega/pseuds/Subject_0mega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been years since Anri of Astora was forced to marry the Lord of Hollows, and they find themself miserable in Londor. One of the small things that gives them comfort is writing letters addressed to an old friend. [Short One-shot]</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Letter to a Dear Friend

         It had been years, but Anri still dreamed of him. They never did find him, back at the Catacombs, when they had foolishly gotten snared by a trap. Yet still, he found his way into their nightmares. Sometimes he was walking away, his back turned to them as they called out, begged him to stay. His heavy, black armor was cold as death as they clung to him, but he never turned to them. In others, he was swept away by a sea of dark sludge, devoured by Aldrich, just like all the others. The unholy saint had too managed to creep his way into Anri's disturbed sleep. Creeping sludge, a formless mass of rot and corpses, writhing with maggots, devouring all in its wake. But unlike when their companion slept beside them, Anri had no comfort upon waking.  
       Nightmares weren’t the only dreams they had of him. Anri dreamed of their friend coming back for them, to rescue them from their prison. To take them far away from the horrible place where they were and far away from the horrible people keeping them there. Or of him simply holding them when they woke up screaming. He was always just as warm as they remembered, his arms just as welcoming. Those always hurt far more than the nightmares. Much worse, sending them back to the waking world shaking and in tears, reaching and crying out to him, only to find that he was no longer there beside them. He hadn’t been for years.  
       If time had done anything beside make Anri miserable, it had made it set in that he was gone. They would likely never know what happened to him. Just saying his name hurt, it hurt worse than anything. Maybe he abandoned them? They had contemplated it but in the end they couldn’t bring themself to feel any sort of resentment for the knight that had once been at their side. If Anri were him, they would have abandoned themself too. But they were weak alone, and it was that weakness that got them kidnapped and married against their will to the Lord of Hollows. The very reason why every time they looked out the window of their prison, all they saw was dark. Anri despised them, but had no choice but to stay. What other options were there? To flee just to be captured again? There was no one to help them escape the monstrous fiend this time.  
       Every once in awhile, they would have the courage to start writing a letter to him, even though they knew it would likely never find it’s way into his hands. It was one of the few things that helped, even if it was only to distract them. Most started with “to a dear friend” and ended in a crumpled mess on the floor. Anri was never good with words, so finding the right ones to put onto paper was an agonizing process. They pressed on for some, but the words on the page always felt stilted, but Anri was desperate. Thinking that even one of the letters could reach him filled them with hope, and so they filled the page with anguish. They spoke of their imprisonment, and how the land was swallowed by dark. Of their kidnapping, and of the marriage they never wanted. They poured out everything onto the pages. The ended it in a confession, and then a plea.  
       That was the only one of the letters that made it outside, carried by a particularly friendly crow. The only instructions they gave the bird were “find the tongueless man in black armor.” They hoped that would be enough. But it had been days since the crow took the letter, and they hadn’t seen it since. Anri leaned against the window, they could hardly tell if they shut their eyes, or if that was just the darkness that had come when the fire was usurped. For the first time in a long while, they smiled. Their pain wasn’t the only thing they put on the pages.  
       Anri wrote about their journeys with him. How their hands fit so perfectly together as they wandered down unknown paths. How dark the forests could be, but they didn’t fear, as long as he was beside them. About how he had turned that armor that had once represented something defiled into a model of what a knight should be. Anri wrote about their escape together, taking his hand and never looking back. About how gentle his hands could be as he held them when the nightmares woke them up, and how warm his body was pressed against theirs.  
       They cried, sobs shaking their frame. They missed him. The masked woman had told them that they would learn to accept their spouse. But that was a lie. They didn’t want the Lord of Hollows. They wanted the man they loved and the man that loved them. Anri wanted Horace. 

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Author’s note: Thank you for reading! Just wanted to write something sad and gloomy. Tried my hand at something I don’t normally do, I’ll leave it up to you guys to tell me how I did. I plan on writing something a lot lighter sometime soon! Any feedback would be much appreciated!


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